Unhurried
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: In his defense, he hadn't expected the Tenth to ask for individual reports. Epilogue to "Clothes Make the Man." Smut; Yamamoto x Gokudera.


**Title:** Unhurried**  
Characters/Pairings:** Yamamoto/Gokudera**  
Summary:** In his defense, he hadn't expected the Tenth to ask for individual reports.**  
Notes:** An epilogue of sorts to Clothes Make the Man. Smut with a soupçon of light bondage. 1060 words.

**

* * *

**

**Unhurried**

Takeshi's tie was wrapped around Hayato's wrists, the muted blues and grays of it crumpled together in an intricate knot that had his wrists lashed to the headboard. It was probably done for, Hayato thought, and couldn't quite bring himself to care.

He flexed his fingers and gripped the headboard again. "You are such an _asshole_."

Takeshi hummed tunelessly and pushed another finger into him, excruciatingly slowly. Hayato groaned as the stretch of it sang up his spine, trying to push back against Takeshi's fingers. All that got him was a sharp smack on the ass and Takeshi's hand holding his hip still while long fingers worked themselves deeper. Takeshi took his own sweet time about it, too, till Hayato gave up on dignity and cursed him roundly.

That just made him laugh. "Still think it was a good idea to distract me right before the budget meeting?" He twisted his fingers, just enough to make Hayato see stars.

Hayato tried to bite back the groan, failed, and finally managed, "I didn't know the Tenth was going to ask for individual reports!"

He didn't know what Takeshi was complaining about, anyway. They'd both been fucking space cases. At least Takeshi had gotten off beforehand, too.

"Uh-huh."

That didn't sound like a man who'd been convinced. Shit.

Takeshi's fingers twisted again, deliberate, fucking _teasing_ him, until Hayato had to rest his forehead against his outstretched arms and pant for breath. "Jesus," he said, giving in to the inevitable. "Would you just go ahead and fuck me already?"

"Mm." Takeshi hummed again, sounding like he was actually thinking it over. Fucker. "Okay."

The way he curled his fingers drew another stuttered curse out of Hayato's throat, but that was okay, that was _fine_ as long as Takeshi was going to keep his word. He already had his knees spread wide against the sheets; he spread them wider as the mattress dipped and moved under the shift of Takeshi's weight as he gripped Hayato's hips again.

He had just enough time to realize that Takeshi was holding him too securely for him to be able to move before Takeshi's cock slid against him, slick against his skin, and sank into him. Hayato groaned with Takeshi, and then again in protest when Takeshi's cock slid back out of him. "What the _hell_?"

"There's no rush, is there?" Takeshi sounded breathless enough, but there was a certain tone to his voice that was altogether too familiar.

Sure enough, when Hayato twisted his head around to peer over his shoulder, Takeshi was grinning that evil little grin of his. "_Fuck_," Hayato said, gasping as Takeshi's cock pressed into him again, unhurried, working his entrance with shallow little strokes. "Fuck, Takeshi—"

"Like I said, no rush."

Takeshi's hands had a secure grip on his hips and his knees were spread too wide to give him any purchase against the mattress. Hayato swore, groaning half the words, as Takeshi kept on fucking him like that, short little thrusts teasing him with the possibility of more. There was nothing he could do but take it, until he surrendered and said, "C'mon, _please_..."

Takeshi hummed again, something low and sleekly pleased, and pushed all the way into him, till Hayato could feel the metal of his zipper pressing against his ass and the cloth of his shirttails brushing against his back.

Jesus, Takeshi hadn't even bothered undressing for this. The thought of what they must look like—him bare-ass naked and tied up, Takeshi still in his rumpled suit, fucking him—flashed through him like lightning. Hayato groaned, shuddering with it. "_Please_!"

"Yeah." Takeshi's voice had a rougher edge to it now, husky. "Yeah, okay." His fingers flexed against Hayato's hips as he drew back and slid in again.

The slow hard pressure of it danced along Hayato's nerves and dragged a groan out of his throat. He leaned his forehead against his arms, gripping the headboard as Takeshi fucked him slowly, panting while Takeshi made soft, satisfied sounds with each stroke. He didn't have to be able to see Takeshi to imagine the intent look that he would have as he moved. Imagining it made him groan: Takeshi leaning over him and wearing that little frown he got when he was concentrating, sleeves rolled up, his collar undone, and his cock sliding in and out of Hayato's ass. "God, come _on_...!"

The sound Takeshi made then wasn't exactly a word, but it was an agreement nonetheless. His next thrust drove into Hayato, sharp and hard. Hayato clenched his fingers on the headboard, white-knuckled, bracing himself against it, and cried out when the next roll of Takeshi's hips sent him shuddering over the edge. Pleasure raked through him, taking him to pieces and then shivering through him as Takeshi's hips jerked against him, erratic, before his fingers dug into Hayato's hips and he moaned as he slumped against Hayato's back.

It took a while before Hayato could begin to think about moving. Wasn't much he could do with his hands bound to the headboard, though, so he leaned his weight against them and drifted in the hazy aftermath while Takeshi caught his breath.

He would have rather died than admit it, but it was kind of nice to have Takeshi's weight draped against him, hot and boneless.

All the same, it was a relief when Takeshi reached a hand up and picked the knots loose. Hayato sighed and settled against the sheets, curling himself away from the mess and feeling the strain in his arms as his weight came off them. "Fuck."

"Mm, yeah." Takeshi sounded entirely too pleased with himself. Hayato aimed an elbow at him, but he moved before it could connect and began wriggling out of his clothes instead.

Hayato grimaced at the sound of cloth hitting the floor. "You're never going to get the wrinkles out of that suit now," he said, trying to resign himself to that awful fact.

"So?" Takeshi caught the next elbow aimed at his ribs and wrapped himself around Hayato, chest warm against his back as he tucked his chin against Hayato's shoulder. "It's just a suit."

Hayato gave up. He really did. "You are such a _barbarian_."

Takeshi chuckled, his breath tickling Hayato's ear. "But you love me anyway."

And, try as he might, Hayato really couldn't dispute that.

**- end -**

Comments are, as always, lovely!


End file.
